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Which is right on my hard cock.
She gasps, and her fingers grip her outer thighs.
"Dante," she breathes.
I shift again, and she bites down on her lip.
"Smile, little rose," I murmur against her ear. "Your audience is watching."
Her smile is strained and furious; her eyes promise murder.
She came to this dinner to make a point. She walked in dressed to kill to punish me for Chantelle.
She took a shot, but she missed.
Now I’m going to make her wish it killed me.
33
SUNNY
Imiscalculated.
I walked into this room like a sparkly grenade, and now I'm the one who is about to explode.
Because his cock is pressed against me through the thin fabric of my underwear, and I can feel every subtle movement rub against my clit.
To the table, it probably looks like a man holding his wife on his lap at a dinner party. Affectionate and normal.
But beneath table level, he has me trapped on top of the hard ridge of his cock, and I can feel the tight coil begin to unwind between my legs.
Not that anyone is paying attention. The table has moved on. Conversations have resumed now that the storm has passed, and everyone’s attention turned away the moment Dante kissed me.
The show's over, except if they looked closely, they’d see it was far from over. Because Dante slides his hand between my naked thighs beneath the table.
John Marco leaves to take a phone call, and farther down the table, a handsome older gentleman holds everyone’s attention as he tells a story.
Dante leans close to my ear. His breath is warm. His voice is barely a murmur.
"That was quite an entrance."
I stare straight ahead. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"The dress. The boots. Sitting on my lap. Calling me baby." His thumb draws a lazy circle on my inner thigh. "You wanted a reaction."
"I wanted to make a point."
"You made one. Just not the one you intended."
His hips shift, the change of angle hitting directly on my clit, and the pressure is almost too much to bear. I have to swallow the moan.
"I know what you were doing," he says, still with that low murmur. "You met Chantelle."
I say nothing.
"She's a housekeeper, Sunny. Nothing more."
"She seemed to think she was more."
